


Of near death and the impossible

by SarahSomething



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Ficlet, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahSomething/pseuds/SarahSomething





	Of near death and the impossible

This was it. She was going to die.

           

She was nearing the edge of the dark forest, running through the wet grass, trying to keep her footing, gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles were turning pale. It was war. War had always seemed like just a concept to her. It was devastating in an almost unfathomable way. It was words in her history book, dates to source in her essays.

 

But she knows now how far from the truth that really is. War is the desperate ache in her lungs from running down dimly lit hallways and dodging falling pieces of what she once considered her home. It was barely evading curses that made the air crackle and burn. It was rounding a corner and seeing what was left of the boy who sat directly in front of her in potions, crumpled on the floor, lifeless hand still reaching for his splintered wand, just inches away. It’s fleeing out the door to see an acre of dead littering the grounds, chaos and death still happening above them, adding the body count. It’s leaping over the body of small child, stumbling down the hill, still trying to escape, and not feeling the pang in your heart that should be there. But she’s seen the light go out of too many eyes to feel anything anymore.

 

There is no glory in war.

 

And all of the running and all of the fighting, where did it get her? Were they winning? Was Harry even alive? She would never know because before she could breach the threshold to take cover in the dark forest of all places, the last resort, the meeting place if it all went to hell, her arm was wrenched to the side and shoved up against a near by rock. Her wand was lying in the dirt. She could see it. It was just a few inches from her left foot but it never looked so far away and out of reach. Her vision was going hazy as a large man in a dark cloak crushed her neck up against the hard stone.

His jaw was clenched and his arm was shaking from the sheer force it took to hold her up. He had lost his mask in the fight she guessed. His entire body said “hate” and “anger”, but that faltered in his eyes. His eyes looked sad. The strange thing was, he didn’t look vile or malicious. He looked like someone’s father. He probably was someone’s father.

He pressed his wand to her temple. She could see the words start to form in his mouth and could almost feel the wand pulse against her head. But before he had even uttered the first syllable he crumpled over in anguish, clutching himself as he fell onto the ground, before going still.

She couldn’t believe what she had just seen. She stared at the man that lay at her feet before looking up and expecting to make eye contact with the person that undoubtedly saved her life, an ally, a friend.

What she saw however was Draco Malfoy, wand still raised and pointed, looking directly at her. The expression on his face was almost unreadable. His features carried a mixture of great horror and immense relief, which she could not even begin to understand. He slowly lowered his wand to his side, eyes not leaving hers for a moment, before giving a pained expression and running back up, where she came from, into the madness.

Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, son of Lucius Malfoy, right hand to the dark lord himself, had just saved her. She stood there for a moment, staring at the space that he once occupied before running into the darkened cover of the forest.

 


End file.
